


Front Stage

by MadScientific



Category: The Spectacular Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Nonbinary Chameleon, Other, Philosophical Discussions, Post-Canon, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 10:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadScientific/pseuds/MadScientific
Summary: J. Jonah Jameson doesn't like or trust masks. Chameleon has thought a lot about masks and performances.
Kudos: 1





	Front Stage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [completetheory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/completetheory/gifts).



> **front stage**  
>  _noun_  
>  In dramaturgical analysis, this is where a performance takes place in front of an audience.
> 
> This fic takes place in a scenario where J. Jonah Jameson hired someone named Leon Ivanov (really Chameleon) to pretend to be a new supervillain called the Scorpion in order to unmask Spider-Man. Chameleon pretty obviously has a thing for Jonah but it's unclear how mutual it is in this fic.

‘Leon Ivanov’ had, perhaps, been a bad idea.

Chameleon was used to two states of being. To those ey wished to know em as emself, ey was Chameleon, with eir normal voice, no changed pitch or hidden accent, either over the phone or with eir near-inhuman face shown plainly. Those ey was closest to, from time to time, did call em Leon, a fond name ey only welcomed from a select few. In all other cases, ey was someone else entirely; ey wore many other faces and used many other voices, some false identities of eir own invention, most people ey was impersonating. Chameleon was comfortable spending a solid quarter of eir life as other people, and there was a clear delineation.

The mask ey wore now was, as with all of Beck’s work, utterly flawless. It still felt paper-thin. Maybe it was eir voice, maybe eir body language, ey had not changed things significantly enough between Chameleon and _Leon_ and it felt as convincing as putting on a domino mask to attend a masquerade. And J. Jonah Jameson was not a stupid man.

He was, however, a busy man, and one who hadn’t met Chameleon properly the one time their paths had crossed. He was also an interesting man, the observation of whom might be worth a little risk…

And, currently, a distracted man. Chameleon watched him pace and gesticulate behind his desk, intrigued. The roar to his voice that was normally so clearly all show held a thread of actual anger as he ranted about _masked heroes and criminals;_ that morning’s paper on his desk showed its front page headlining feature, a battle between Spider-Man and Mysterio.

“—so far as I’m concerned, as long as the webhead has that mask of his, they’re just as bad as each other!”

That _was_ why Jameson had hired em, but Chameleon let that particular small fish go, more interested in the emotion lurking in Jonah’s rant. “Frankly, I’m fascinated by the supervillains. Less so the hero.”

That effectively derailed the man. Jonah looked over at em, frowning deeply, but he was back to bluster rather than actual temper again, one brow arching. “How’s that? –I’m not paying you to get into the act, Ivanov, I’m not going to be responsible for creating a real supervillain!”

Chameleon laughed, waving a hand. “No, nothing like that. And please, call me Leon. No, I’m not suited to being a career supervillain.” Just a career criminal. “But I do have some admiration for them. They are… uncompromising. They construct the self that they would show the world, make their desires plain, chase their goals in front of all witnesses. They’re honest in ways criminals and civilians alike would never dream of being.”

“First you say they’re actors, then you say they’re honest!” Jonah grumbled, taking his seat, but he looked across his desk at Chameleon with enough sharp contemplation that for a moment ey was again worried for eir disguise.

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” Ey leaned forward in eir own chair, tapping the picture of Mysterio. “Quentin Beck’s name is as known as any actor with a starring role. But,” ey added, “I did not say they were actors. Everyone constructs their selves—most often multiple.”

“Don’t get started with philosophy or psychology or whatever _ology_ you’re going for here!”

Chameleon grinned. “I wouldn’t dare quote Goffman at you,” ey assured. “Much less Jung. But it’s hardly an alien thought, is it, to put one’s best self forward?”

Eir grin faded some, and ey turned the newspaper on the desk to get a more direct look at the headlining photo, contemplating. “Even Spider-Man is likely doing that same thing,” ey mused. “Perhaps the mask makes it easier, when one is not quite so unashamed to show what one wishes to be to the world.” Ey looked back up at Jameson, then, and smirked. “You may already know one of Spider-Man’s true identities, Jameson.”

“If the next sentence out of your mouth is ‘Spider-Man’s true identity is Spider-Man’ I want you out of my office—”

“In two-point-three seconds?”

“Before I fire you for wasting my time.”

Jameson’s exaggerated patience almost made Chameleon laugh again. “Don’t worry. I intend to keep my advance, Jonah, and earn the rest of my paycheck. You will have Spider-Man’s true identity—the face under the mask.”

Jonah settled back in his chair, unruffling from what had been, quite frankly, not any real outrage at all. He was back to giving Chameleon that thoughtful look that ey sincerely felt was dangerous to eir entire act—and just as sincerely enjoyed. “…So you actually think masks are just as real as their real faces?”

Chameleon smiled a real smile, with a face that was 100% fake topography. “I think you’re right that Spider-Man has something to hide,” ey allowed. “I also think that for many people, every face is a mask, and each mask shows a part of themself. You may have seen several of, for just one example, Foswell’s masks, yet still not know the man fully. Or you may see someone’s mask and have a reasonably clear idea of who they truly are.”

Jonah’s brow arched again. “You’re talking about something specific.”

Chameleon stood, not particularly abruptly, but there was no way to seem like ey wasn’t retreating because ey was. “I’ve interrupted your work for long enough,” ey said, and turned to leave.

“So if this is a mask, what are you hiding, Leon?”

Ey paused, eir hand on the door handle, frission going down eir spine; yes, taking a term of endearment as eir name had been a bad idea. Then ey glanced back over eir shoulder with a smile. “Not every mask’s purpose is to hide. You may find out mine… but for the moment, I have a job to do. Goodbye.”

It took half the elevator ride to slow eir heartbeat down. By the time ey hit the street, ey was already someone else.


End file.
